


Special Instructions

by trilliath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Pizza AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:24:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trilliath/pseuds/trilliath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pizza place Stiles works at gets an odd prompt for their Special Instructions: Send your cutest delivery boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Italiano available: [Special Instructions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5138165) by [ShallICompareThee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShallICompareThee/pseuds/ShallICompareThee)



The guy is leaning against the door frame, looking a little winded, though he has the pizza bag balanced gently enough on his hand.

His eyes widen as Derek opens the door and his lips part in a soft 'o' before a flush spreads over his cheeks and a crinkled grin splits his face. 

"Extra-large pepperoni and mushrooms."

"You're late," Derek says, though there's not much bite to it. Just the usual hungry grouchiness that accompanies the anticipation of pizza.

"Sorry. There was... we weren't sure which one of us was going to come. I had to arm-wrestle Scott for the tie-breaker." He seems smug about that for some reason as he slides the pizza out of the case and hands it over to Derek. "I'm Stiles, by the way."

Derek arches an eyebrow and says, "Derek," since it's only polite. He sets the pizza box aside and takes the little mini clipboard to sign for the charge to his card. 

Stiles plucks off the customer copy to hand to Derek and slides the clipboard into the bag, but he seems to be lingering a little, so Derek looks back at him, brows raised.

"So, uh. What do you think?" Stiles asks, eyelashes sweeping down flirtatiously as he leans against the door frame.

"About?"

"You know," Stiles replies, cheeks going hot.

Derek doesn't know. But the variety of innuendos and possibilities that start spinning through his head are enough to distract him from the pizza and make him really look at the young man lingering in his doorway. His short hair is ruffled, strands going every which way like he runs his fingers through it on a regular basis. Bright eyes, a positively sinful mouth that's quirked speculatively, and an appealing lanky form with just enough muscle in all the right places.

"Dude. About the special..." his face starts to pale and he straightens from his casual pose. "You have no idea what I'm talking about."

Derek shakes his head in confirmation, though he wishes now that he did know.

"Oh my god. Oh my god if Boyd did this as a - sorry. Sorry! Nevermind. Wow. Just." 

He turns, face gone blank as he adds as almost an afterthought, "Excuse me. I have some murder to go commit. Uh, enjoy your pizza."

And then he's gone, disappearing down the apartment building hallway. Derek frowns after him, oddly disappointed at his departure and thoroughly confused. 

Until he glances at the receipt in his hands.

The receipt that clearly says "special instructions: send your cutest delivery boy"

Derek leans his forehead against the door with a thump as he bellows, "CORA!"

 

His only response is hysterical laughter from behind the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

It's just an anomaly to be forgotten about, another thing to add to the list of "strange pizza delivery-boy shenanigans" that come with a job like this. And if he's a little disappointed that Derek hadn't _actually_ sent for him (though Boyd had never actually admitted it, asking Stiles archly if he was calling Boyd a liar was the same as an admission, probably) it's just another in a long string of missed opportunities and rejections.

So it takes a second for it to register two weeks later when Erica says with a mischievous smile as she snatches the box away from Scott's waiting bag, "Not Scott. Stiles."

"Huh? No. It's Scott's turn."

"537 Beacon Hill apartments, number 32 ring a bell?" she asks, eyebrows going up significantly.

He just continues to look at her like she's crazy. Because she kindof is, as much as he loves her.

"Derek Hale," she says like she's talking to a child, rolling her eyes as she shoves the box into his hands. "Hurry up. Don't want to keep the man waiting," she adds with a wink.

Stiles glares as Isaac bursts into rude laughter, elbow deep in a batch of dough. Stiles just turns his glare back on Erica. "Not this again. Tell your boyfriend it wasn't funny _last_ time."

She throws her hands up and makes a face that's the picture of innocence. "Honest to god, it's what the computer printed out from the customer!"

"Oh my god," Stiles says with a groan, taking the box and loading up the receipt tray into his bag. The printout clearly says "Send Stiles" in the little box for special instructions. He tries to quash the burble of hope that wells up in his chest at the thought that it might actually be intentional on Derek's part. He doesn't really want to get his pride crushed again. Then again, standing around looking at the others' smirking faces doesn't hold any appeal either so he quickly gathers his gear and heads out the door to load into his jeep.

The laughter he leaves in his wake has him vowing revenge of some sort on all of them. Like freezing Isaac's keys in a block of ice. Or switching all of Erica's work shirts for extra-extra-larges. Scott saves himself from the fate of having his cell-phone saran-wrapped by following him out, a worried frown replacing the glee on his face. 

"Bro, hang on. Is this going to be okay? I mean, what if he turns out to be some sort of _predator_?" he asks awkwardly crunching his hands in some strange parody of something awful.

Stiles rolls his eyes as he slides into his car, flicking on the pizza place's light stuck to the roof. "If he were, he would have hassled me last time, don't you think? Or not waited two weeks. And besides. I'm pretty sure I can handle myself."

"I guess. Just. Be careful or whatever, okay?"

Stiles leans down to give him a quick side-hug and then shoos him back with an eyeroll as he starts the jeep. He's more likely to have his pride hurt again than anything else.

So maybe he speeds a little, and plays his music loud with the windows down in order to distract himself from the frisson of nerves bubbling in his chest. Because yeah, he'd thought about it. Not much. But, seriously, it had been cliché porno _gold_ , the special instructions, the sex-god answering the door… 

So if Derek had remembered him too, had turned the memory over in his mind until he decided he wanted to do something about it… It is possible. Unlikely, but possible.

When he pulls into the visitor parking space, he takes a moment and adamantly shoves all the bad porno lines out of his head. Even still, he checks in the mirror to make sure there's nothing on his face and that his hair isn't too ridiculous before he hops down from the jeep and carries the pizza up the stairs to the apartment. He doesn't lean against the doorframe this time but it's a close thing. Then, taking a breath for courage, he raps his knuckles against the door.

It's only a brief wait before he hears the approach of footsteps. Derek opens the door and freezes, lips parting in surprised confusion. 

Stiles sighs. So yeah, not so much with the intentional, at least not on Derek's part. He tries not to be too disappointed. It had been a long-shot anyway.

"Uh, hey. Here I am as requested, with the pizza you ordered," Stiles says with a friendly wink as he tugs the velcro clasp free on the bag and slides out the pizza. 

Derek ignores the pizza for a moment though, turning and striding back into the apartment a few feet and shouting, "CORA!"

"It's for your own good!" the girl in question shouts back, leaning her head around the corner of the hallway and sticking her tongue out at him. She looks over at Stiles and wiggles her fingers before glancing back at Derek. "Did you get his number yet? He's cute."

Stiles blinks, baffled.

"Cora," Derek grits out. She snickers and disappears and Derek closes his eyes and sighs, hands coming up to scrub over his face. His voice is tight as he says, "I apologize for my sister. She's… _helping_ me find a date for our sister's wedding." 

The air-quotes paired with the thick eyebrows pulled down in a scowl ends up being more adorable than intimidating. Stiles bites his lip to hide his amusement as everything that's been happening clicks into place. He doesn't have any siblings, but he's heard of the horrors they can inflict. 

Stiles shrugs, rubbing a thumb under his lip, saying "I don't mind, actually. Not, uh, not in this case anyway."

Because it's true. Even if it's disappointing not to have Derek asking after him, he at least comes away with a funny story and even better, gets to check out a gorgeous guy in a thin v-neck and jeans that mold to his thighs in a way that makes Stiles wish he were denim. Plus there's that little voice in his head which points out that Cora's mischief probably means that Derek is, in fact, into dudes. 

Derek looks at him in surprise, and then, to Stiles's glee and suddenly revived hope, the tips of Derek's ears start to turn pink as he takes the pizza and says a soft, "Oh."

Derek signs for the pizza and adds a too-large tip, but he doesn't say anything else, too busy blushing, and Stiles kindof wants to kiss him for it. So on impulse (and because he is kindof a masochist), Stiles snatches the customer copy of the receipt back from Derek and scribbles down his phone number on the thin slip of paper.

"You know, in case you still need a date sometime," Stiles says, pressing the paper back into Derek's frozen hand and grinning at the stunned look on his face.

"Enjoy your pizza," he says and, because exits are important, adds a wink and then walks away from the door.


End file.
